#what a host | main verse

[wistrea]

woe, pokemon kira be upon ye

[volivolition]

dude the TOP song you posted (truce) fucking kills me and the way you described the animatic is??? so good???? I'd bawl actually /pos

I need to know if there's any other TOP songs you relate to the furies/any DE character really, or any slower songs even if they aren't by TOP

OH AGREED ABSOLUTELY!! TRUCE MY BELOVED... and THANK YOU!! we are imagining animatics and crying together! /pos :'] <3

ooh!! well, i havent listened to a lot of TOP in a while, so i don't have many recommendations there unfortunately :'] but for other slow, soft songs, let's see... i'll put them under a cut with all my explanations, but ☀️ "See The Day" by The Altogether (Volition song!), 🍃 "Rounds" by The Oh Hellos (Shivers song!), 🦋 "Would You Be So Kind" by dodie (general skills song, Suggestion primarily!) are the best contenders!

Pretty sure you've seen it already, but from a different ask, i recommend "Almost (Sweet Music)" by Hozier! (and "Like Real People Do" if you want to cry and yearn with me, though my DE ideas for it are very loose hkjhg) these are slow ones i like hkjhg <3

"Goodbye" by The Altogether is a Harry and Dora song :0

"Soldier, Poet, King" by The Oh Hellos is one i specifically relate to Volition (my beloved protector/motivator/crownhead blorbo! [picks him up and wiggles him!!!]), but i would make one of those animation memes for it with every skill slotted into a "soldier" "poet" or "king" position.

☀️ "See the Day" is both another The Altogether song and another Volition song! a real "the worst is over. we made it through. we're going to survive this. it might not get easier yet, but we'll come out the other side and we'll be alive" song. it makes me cry hkjgh

🍃 "Rounds" by The Oh Hellos is a soft Shivers song, though the lyrics don't start until halfway in. ough my god listening to it makes my heart ache (/pos) <3 La Revacholiere singing to Harry in the wind. "Will you start when I end? Yeah, I'm long in the wind..."

"Northern Star" by Dom Fera, a song Harry would sing for karaoke and dedicate to Kim, and then they'd waltz a little clumsily on the dim, starlit sidewalk on their way home for the evening... <3

🦋 "Would You Be So Kind?" by dodie BUT SPECIFICALLY THIS VERSION, because i love everyone's crowded but earnest vibes. this one is led by Suggestion ("oooh you wanna fall in love with us so bad right? right???") and makes me grin, you GOTTA imagine all of the skills squished together in the front of Harry's brain all trying different tactics to get Kim to fall in love with them, (rhetoric: "I HAVE A QUESTION..." ency: "let's write a story! be in my book!") at 2:35, after all the skills singing together loudly, it's just Harry himself singing to Kim, with all the skills slowly backing him up. the ending is all of them fucking ECSTATIC celebrating when harry finally kisses kim hkjhg jesus this'd be so cute hold on i have to go plan this out i have so many thoughts hkjdh

"Seven" by Sleeping at Last would be a sweet Reaction Speed song (ironic that im adding react speed to a list of soft, slow songs though hkjgh) "I'm ready for whatever comes next!" <3 Reaction Speed is a fast, restless little fella who can't sit still for long, always loves moving, acting, doing. he's like the personification of a verb hkjhg <3 i would also accept an interpretation for echem <3

"Cosmos" by Jawbreaker Reunion is a song that The Furies recently suggested to me as a jean song and it's so right for that, very soft and i like it very much :'] (you should also ask The Furies if you want to, it's much more musically inclined than me, i feel hkjhg <3)

awuahg thank you for asking and for reading!! i appreciate it!! <33

oh and here's links to all of the songs in the tags: Come Together Now, Two, Four, Five, Six, Eight, Nine, RPG Animation Meme (<- homestuck lmao)

[ocvelli]

whats this about the vacuum dust

Now I wonder if anyone who bought it has tried to huff the dust Or if they bought a ton to try using it as stuffing for those emery pincushions but instead of the usual strawberry it's an alastor nui

Have they tried marketing it as Alastor Branded Pocket Sand (but its vacuum dust)??? Would they do different flavors with different things mixed in? Like:

Nearby-the-Indoor-Bayou (has dead bugs crushed up and whole - dragonflies, damselflies, mosquitos, fireflies, etc mixed in like mixed nuts) flavor

Underneath-the-Bookshelf flavor (idk extra dusty???)

Dining-Table-Where-He-Chews-On-Raw-Venison-or-His-Victims-Bones (has bone crumbs? bone shavings or smth) flavor

Electronics-Hes-Crushed flavor (recommended for pocket sand purpose- probably would be sold out often for some reason)

Rust-From-His-Toolbox flavor (best seller for pocket sand purposes)

Exclusive! Limited Edition!! Radio-Tower-Vacuum-Dust (he probably keeps that place cleanest so it's not often that Niffty can get anything from there)

more notes/ideas in the tags too lazy to properly format them here (edit: ended up putting them here as screenshots since the others got cut off rip)

I think there is technically some ‘monetary’ gain from Alastor’s “patronage” of the hotel:

- he’s a (has-been) celebrity and he is using that to promote the hotel in its marketing to his established audience. Allegedly for free

Financially, he also uses his “skills” to save Charlie unnecessary expenses:

- plumbing, repairs, staff, administrative duties (assumption), catering (?)

- getting things done for “free”, aka pulling strings and limbs to avoid paying for tv air time

If Charlie had to pay for all these herself, the cost would be astronomical. Especially since the hotel is rent-free and run like a charity.

Alastor may not be making Charlie profit, but he is saving her money, which keeps their accounting in the black instead of red.

And then Lucifer showed up and demonstrated he can conjure anything 😂 I’d be salty on Charlie’s behalf too tbh

(referenced ask)

okay but like... these are all stuff alastor can actually proudly flex so he wouldn't have a problem with it (since he is voluntarily helping), now when it comes to husk niffty and angel dust making money off of alastor's room's fucking vacuum dust, lucifer taking art commissions containing sexy alastor drawings, niffty taking writing commissions for alastor x readers, that is when he loses his mind, especially when he finds out it's being sold to VOX of all people

[transbookoftheday]

Trans Horror Podcasts

My post about trans horror books last year was much more popular than I expected, and since I've recently fallen in love with fiction podcasts and audio dramas, I thought I'd make a post about trans horror podcasts as well.

If you like trans horror, please give these a try - especially if you enjoy listening to audiobooks!

Hello From The Hallowoods:

Come walk between the black pines! In this award-winning queer fiction podcast, an eldritch narrator follows the increasingly connected residents of the forest at the end of the world. It's a bittersweet story that explores queer identity, horror genre tropes, and finding hope in humanity's last moments.

Hello From The Hallowoods is my absolute favorite podcast! If you only listen to one podcast from this list, please make it this one - it's so beautifully written and super queer! Also: season 4 starts today!

Trans main characters include:

our nonbinary eye-affiliated podcast host

a nonbinary "Frankenstein's creature"

a transmasc ghost

a genderfluid storm witch

a trans woman who can visit other people's dreams

multiple characters using neopronouns

Camp Here & There:

Good morning, campers! Camp Here & There is a weekly horror comedy podcast tuned in to the loudspeakers of a small midwestern sleepaway camp plagued by supernatural terrors and natural disasters. Sydney Sargent, resident camp nurse, cheerfully reports on all the terror we must face with a big smile. Let’s hope there’s nothing weird about that!

Sydney is a trans man.

Dos: After You:

Things have changed. Deck has fallen in love with someone who isn't human, and leaves a hungry house behind to see him again. Will he be waiting for you? The world has changed… but what about him? Dos: After You is a queer urban fantasy/horror audiodrama available in both English & Spanish

Deck is a trans man.

Jar of Rebuke:

Follow Dr. Jared Hel's journey as he works to re-discover his forgotten past and finds his place within the small Indiana farm town of Wichton and the cryptozoological organization he works for called 'The Enclosure'. These audio journals, and other recordings, dive deep into Midwestern US cryptids and folklore while also telling a mystery about identity, queerness, neurodivergence, and community.

Jared is nonbinary.

Spirit Box Radio:

Spirit Box Radio is an award winning, horror audio drama podcast about a radio show for enthusiasts of all things arcane. Follow Sam Enfield a former postboy with no experience in the arcane arts, who finds themselves forced to take over running the show, following the disappearance of the previous host. Sam soon discovers there are more than ghosts haunting the show, and finds himself amidst a mystery which threatens everything he knows about the world beyond his tiny basement broadcast studio, and maybe even himself.

Sam is a trans man.

The Silt Verses:

Carpenter and Faulkner, two worshippers of an outlawed god, travel up the length of their deity’s great black river, searching for holy revelations amongst the reeds and the wetlands. As their pilgrimage lengthens and the river’s mysteries deepen, the two acolytes find themselves under threat from a police manhunt, but also come into conflict with the weirder gods that have flourished in these forgotten rural territories. This is a world where divine intervention takes place through prayer-markings scratched into stumping-posts, and offerings are left squirming to die in the flats of the delta. This is a world of ritual, and hidden language, and sacrifice. This is folk horror, and fantasy, and a dark road trip into the depths of unusual faith.

Faulkner is a trans man and Paige is a trans woman.

The Magnus Protocol:

The Magnus Archives 2: The Magnus Protocol is the prequel/sequel/”sidequel” to the internationally renowned Magnus Archives podcast. The Magnus Institute was an organisation dedicated to academic research into the esoteric and the paranormal, based out of Manchester, England. It burned to the ground in 1999. There were no survivors. Now, almost 25 years later, Alice and Sam, a pair of low-level civil service workers at the underfunded Office of Incident Assessment and Response, have stumbled across its legacy. A legacy that will put them in grave danger. If this intrigues you then it is our pleasure to welcome you to the Office of Incident, Assessment and Response. Make sure you pick up your badge at desk and report to your line manager before sitting down. Oh and stay away from I.T., seriously.

Alice is a trans woman.

[jamiepaige]

Constant Companions Closeup #1: DYAD

(also on spotify!)

Hello everyone!! It's been a couple weeks and change since Constant Companions, my newest album, was released unto the world, and I've been genuinely blown away by the response. Genuinely, thank you to everyone who's been streaming, commenting, making mashups, changing their pfps and usernames - it means the world to me!

I wanted to give some of that love back with something people have been asking me a lot about - and, admittedly, something I love doing. Song explanations! Deep dives! Dropping the lore! Welcome... to the Constant Companions Closeups...

For the next eleven days, I'll be going into each track one by one and babbling about the process, inspiration, details, feelings, and thoughts behind each one! We're getting sappy. We're bearing our hearts. We're telling unfunny jokes. And we're starting with track one - DYAD (featuring unit.0)!

---

Naturally, since this is the first track, it also serves as a great point to talk about my intention with this album as a whole!

I'll elaborate more on this with future tracks, but to me, there are really two main things that define the sonic progression of this album versus my previous work - guitars and vocal synths. Obviously, these things have been present in my work since I first started calling myself Jamie Paige, but Constant Companions is intended to be my overwrought, sappy confession of love to these two things that time and time again have made me simply want to make music. I love rock and I love Hatsune Miku dammit!!!

I had originally written this song in February of 2023 for a game-jam-esque online festival hosted by my friend Loni called HAPPY PARTY TRI, and at that time, I had found myself at a major crossroads. I had put out People Posture Play Pretend and :women_wrestling: the previous year, and while the response was nice, I was feeling listless and lost.

I love singing. I like my voice well enough. I certainly love writing music with lyrics!! But... there was something uniquely electrifying about using vocal synths. Amidst a lot of insecurity and emotional turmoil surrounding the process of making art and putting myself out into the world, it was one of the few things that just made everything feel right. Suddenly, I was making the same kind of music that had touched my heart so many times over.

Would it alienate people, though? Would I lose longtime listeners? Yes, that weighed on my mind more than I'd like to admit, but even more than that... I was worried I'd lose some part of myself, as silly as it sounds. Maybe what I thought was a bridge would become a barrier, and the messages I wanted to send across the gap would never find their way.

Ultimately, I felt that Dyad was the only kind of opener I could've possibly given this album, and a perfect fit for the album's motif. A dialogue between myself, stricken with loneliness and a lack of inertia running in circles, and that synthesized voice (ANRI Arcane my darling), grabbing the outstretched hand and asking a question I already know the answer to -

"Baby, do you know what you wanna hear?"

Yes, it's a love song, but it's not just for a person - it's a love song for the creative impulse, and for the places I wanted it to take me.

im resisting the urge to be jokingly dismissive of myself to diffuse tension but i still need to signal that the emotionally bare part of this is over so pretend im doing a funny little dance Anyways let's talk more technical stuff

---

Like many of my songs, Dyad came together from a patchwork of different snippets and ideas I had laying around. The back half of the chorus - "dream together, we can dream together" - originally came from this idea I had jotted down something like 9 months prior, but ended up being a perfect fit for Dyad in basically every way. The verse snippet that I'd written to go with it got reused for a later song on Constant Companions as well! (I say without naming it, as if it isn't literally lifted wholesale from this demo and thus incredibly obvious)

I wasn't originally planning on brazenly quoting the bridge of a Tally Hall song when I set out to write this song, but while toying around with a bridge idea involving a shortened version of the pre-chorus melody, I realized I had inadvertently copied it anyways. I was going to scrap it... but at the request of my dear friend and certified Tally Hall lover Marcy Nabors, I made it an explicit reference. Which I'm fine with, personally! The first CD I ever owned was a copy of Marvin's Marvelous Mechanical Museum my sister bought me all the way back in 2006 - You can pry that sentimental attachment from my cold, dead hands, TikTok kiddies.

Lastly - not really behind the scenes so much as just a shoutout - thank you to unit.0 for the lovely lead guitar work on this song!! He's been a beloved collaborator of mine for many, many years now, and one of the people who ultimately convinced me this direction was the right one to go in, so it means a lot to share this song with him. Go listen to his music!!! Now!!!!!!

That's about it for this song! Not to sound like a fucking YouTuber, but genuinely, if there are any details you'd like to hear more about, let me know and I might made a bonus post at the end of all this. Otherwise, thank you for listening! Tomorrow: Not Quite There, featuring telebasher!

❤️💚

[jacesvelaryons]

The Reluctant Empress (Jacaerys Velaryon x Female!Reader)

Act II. Burgeoning

(19th Century Imperial Austria AU)

summary: crown prince jacaerys gets to know his prospect betrothed and future bride whom he has been arranged with to marry, your sister helaena targaryen, but true to your wild spirit, you cannot help but wonder what awaits in the world behind gilded castles and royal splendour.

word count: 2.4k words

a/n: i'm so sorry this took an entire year before an update but it is finally here! i apologize as I had some health things to settle, and with brain fog and got more distracted by other fandoms but here we go! once again, please comment and share what you liked, what you'd want more for me and request and let me know as my inbox is always open <3 let me know if you want to be on the taglist or not getting tags!

series masterlist

previously: prologue | act i

masterlist

requests OPEN

“Men at some time are masters of their fates. The fault, dear Brutus, is not in our stars, but in ourselves, that we are underlings.” ― William Shakespeare, Julius Caesar

Seated between her mother and sister, Y/N eyes roamed around the dining hall in the palace that hosted the royal family and her covey. Changed into an emerald green gown, wearing the necklace and earrings her father gave her on the last name day before his passing, she paid no mind to the significance of the occasion and was just glad to be there, surrounded in the splendor of the castle walls.

She knew that it was Helaena’s time to shine, and she would not want to rob her of her light, of the opportunity that would change their fortunes and not have Alicent scrabbling and worrying over the last penny of their expenses.

Twirling her fork on the pesto noodles in front of her, Y/N remained silent and just patiently listened to all the conversation around her, between her mother and her childhood friend the Queen, who inquired about Helaena’s well being, her lifestyle and assessing on how she would adjust becoming the next consort upon wedding Jacaerys.

Dazed out in a world of her own, Y/N did not hear Jacaerys reverting his attention to her aptly, until her sister nudged her ankle with her shoe, repeating her name on his tongue like it was the sweetest honey, curiosity and amusement on his features.

“Lady Y/N, what do you do in your free time, my lady?”

Stammering like a cat bit her tongue, she cleared her throat as she gathered herself and make her look and sound presentable.

“I ride horses, my prince. I hunt and I have picked up the sword a few times.” Lady Y/N bluntly replied, already feeling the burning glare of your embarrassed mother. Queen Rhaenyra only watches in amusement, how her confidante could have a daughter who was nothing like her mother.

Jacaerys was intrigued, leaning forward to hear Y/N better and scooch closer over to Her. A curious smile on his handsome, chiseled face, his curly brown hair starting to grow out and neatly groomed behind his ears.

Plates and utensils remained untouched as Y/N and Jacaerys were engrossed in an engaging, animated conversation, passionate replies to uncontrollable laughter.

The older women present at the table watched with trepidation, Lady Alicent’s habits of digging into her fingernails returned while the silver-haired queen’s expression turned unreadable.

Helaena swallowed her wounded pride of being ignored and not found as an interesting companion, playing with her knife and fork, digging at the roast beef the same way her young daughter would.

As the servants gather the finished main course meals and replace them with fresh fruit and lemon cakes for dessert, Rhaenyra swiftly suggests for the elder Targaryen sister to read out some of the poetry her mother praised earlier.

“You must share with us your talent in verse and poetry, Lady Helaena.”

Relieved, the indigo hued girl stood up at the end of the table, grabbing her little booklet hidden in the pockets of her skirt. Flipping through its parchment pages, she settles to a recent entry close to the end of the worn out leather bound book, covered with an embroidered beetle.

To want is the most natural thing Inherent in the blood through our veins The very primal urge of our being Yet we will always want, and want With no end like a black hole What better to want what is not ours? To covet what the other possesses To take away what is given as easily as it was owned?

Her raspy voice echoed through the halls mellifluously in perfectly rehearsed High Valyrian. Yet you could not help a guilty perception weighing on you, blossoming at the pit of your stomach and you could not shake it off. You were doing nothing wrong, you told yourself, wanting to believe in it but it felt wrong.

Y/N’s fears arose to the surface when she could feel a burning stare on her face intensely, as if memorizing her very form and that she would disappear into nothing anytime. You were listening as intently as you could, yet when you turned, Jacaerys did not pay mind to a single word Helaena said as his focus was fixated on you.

No, no, no. Nothing was going as planned. Everything was going wrong. She praises whatever gods intervened when the heir’s brother Prince Lucerys gracefully diverted the topic into the new cuisines created by the cooks of the Keep with the freshest catches of seafood from Driftmark.

…

“Y/N, what do you think you were doing out there?! Do you think I do not notice your need to always be the centre of attention?” The shrill shrieking of her mother’s voice pierced through her ear drums, yet Y/N was unsurprised and used to such altercations with her mother.

Following the uneasy supper, the three ladies from Dalston Keep returned to their chambers to change midday in preparation for the tour around the gardens with the queen and her heir again after a few hours of respite.

Silently humiliated as they reconvened in private, the illusion of propriety that Lady Alicent carried in front of the queen and prince ripped away, unleashing a ferocity unrestrained like never before.

“I did nothing, mother. I was polite and engaged in a conversation when I was spoken to.”

“You did more than that, you foolish girl! It was about your sister. All of this was about her, not you! Is it so difficult for you to tone down your tendencies for once so we can go according to the arrangement? You put our fortunes up to be desolated. You are as careless as your father!” The sting of her final words hung in the air, salt over the open wound for such a loss. Y/N knew her mother did not love her father, who was older than her own father, and only did her duty to her ailing, troubled, aging husband.

“Mother, that is enough! Do not bring father into this.” Helaena countered exasperatedly, holding onto her sister by her shoulders in defense. “Y/N did nothing wrong. It was..it was me. I should have engaged with the prince more. She did me a favour.”

Y/N gasps in disbelief, astonished her beloved sister would keep taking her side when it was clear she was the wounded party.

“Do not worry about it, mother. I promise I will remain silent from now on. I want this to be Helaena’s night.” Y/N swears sincerely, wanting to defend Helaena and stay away from any trouble from now on.

Alicent does not fully believe her youngest, but nods solemnly as she seeks to move this behind them, returning to her dignified, contemplating gaze with her perfect posture and arms clasped at her waist.

Subsequently, a drove of maids and seamstresses poured in, as Alicent went to her solitary room while the sisters shared a larger room. Each stepped on the raised wooden platform. Taking lush gowns from the closet, they plucked out a rich emerald green gown with fitted sleeves for Helaena.

Meanwhile, a muted seafoam gown was placed on Y/N, as maids scuttered behind her to tighten the corset and laces. Y/N whimpered quietly in discomfort, never finding any gratification in restrictive court dress upheld by centuries of protocol and conduct. It barred her sense of freedom, clipped off her wings from flight and reminded her of a bird in a cage.

Heirloom pieces of emerald silver lined jewelry were given to Helaena, designed to accentuate her beauty and prepare her for her upcoming role and ascent into her duty. As the daylight trickled in through the lace curtains and open windows, she looked like a future queen. A role she was raised to be. Otherworldly and ethereal, while Y/N was grounded to the earth, locks like flames and soil.

Y/N beamed in delight for her older sister, squeezing her hands in reassurance. Helaena reciprocated not as enthusiastically, the nerves still getting to her as her palms were sweating and shaking.

“You have nothing to worry about, Hel. We would not get this far if he did not consider you his bride already.”

“Truly, do you really think so?”

“I do. Without a doubt. You already look the part. It is only the formality left we are waiting for at the ball.”

The elder genuinely chuckled this time in relief, her joy finally meeting her eyes from the comfort and encouragement of her sister.

“Now, all that is left is for you to step into your destiny.”

…

Manicured gardens flourished in the peak of spring, cicadas chirping from the branches of oak trees. Lilies and carnations in hues of apricot and blush, while the outlying paths were paved in blue hydrangeas and violet peonies.

Queen Rhaenyra adorned a lapis lazuli blue gown adorned in gold trimmings and sapphires sewn onto her bodice, matching the stone necklace of the color on her neck and matched her tiara, a reminder of her late mother and former queen.

She pleasantly strolled with a natural confidence, carrying herself with an ease afforded by one who has known privilege and power all her life. Guiding a tour around the Red Keep at the height of its social season, Rhaenyra proudly showed off her domains, and subtly if so, the lands that Helaena would take care of as its hostess after she marries Jacaerys and becomes his queen when the time comes.

Behind her was her eldest Crown Prince Jacaerys, always without a hair or trivet out of place, the picture of perfection that she had groomed since his birth. Dressed more casually in teal with the seahorse emblem on his chest, he honoured his late father Lord Laenor Velaryon, further dispelling any rumours or uncertainty around his paternity.

Although he did not directly resemble his father, he has begun to share features with his paternal grandmother Princess Rhaenys with her Baratheon colouring, and the shape of his nose and chin mirrored her father, who was another Prince of Dragonstone, Prince Aemon the Pale Prince. As rider of Vermax, it was undeniable he was the prince long awaited by the realm, whom millions of hopes and dreams were instilled in.

Standing beside him was Lady Helaena Targaryen, his expected betrothed in everything but formality. Raised with the intention of becoming a princess consort, she was demure, shy, obedient and trusting, exactly what the people of Westeros wanted of their model future queen. Proven in her success of childbearing, onlookers examined her critically on baited breath as they wanted to know who will bear the next generation of Targaryen rulers on the Iron Throne.

Their chaperons trailed behind them, Lady Alicent arm in arm with Lady Y/N, in the same shade of muted green, but her mother had visible symbols of the Faith of the Seven from her necklace, her dark headdress and veil, and on the cuffs on her wrist and belt. Y/N distractedly took in her sights, studying every nook and cranny of the storied palace with eagerness and pursuit.

“This garden still follows the design plan created by Queen Rhaenys the Conqueror herself, yet it was only finished years after her passing in Dorne.”

The queen continued the tour of the keep, while she discreetly eavesdropped on the conversation between her heir and his expected betrothed. The two were engaging pleasantly yet amiably on the surface level, their dialogue not reaching too far. Unaware of a figure parting at the fork and heading another direction.

…

When she is assured she’s clear and no one can find her, Y/N Targaryen smirks victoriously as she heads straight and turns left towards the barn, near the dragonpit, where the horses and grazing animals were located.

On nimble footsteps, through the mud and manure, she makes a run for it as two stableboys turn the corner and miss her, as they forgot to close the stables and she sneaks in.

As the afternoon light trickles in, Y/N looks around curiously, before her attention is caught by this white mare, with its freshly brushed mane and shining horsehair, an anomaly among ebony and hickory. Not wanting to startle the majestic creature, she prances until she’s in front of the horse, hushing and cooing at them as she latches onto the reins.

She holds the mane by her reins, tugging gently as she walks through the barn and the empty backwaters of the ancient castle. It is quiet, with most servants resting for their annual nap and their morning duties finished, so Y/N is able to ride the stallion undiscovered.

The lingering scent of the manure and greenery turns into salty waters of aegean and spruce and the earthy, musty petrichor from the rain on the fir and cedar trees earlier in the morning.

A hint of the cool breeze tingles through her skin, a dress and not proper riding gear in its leathers and furs, but she brushes it off, as King’s Landing in the spring at this time of the year has turned warm and the rain from earlier is long gone.

She rides as far as her companion will allow, until the peripheral view of the Red Keep grows distant from over her shoulder. Y/N stops at the fork of the road before it joins the greater Kingsroad, diverting by the forest with towering trees and fallen logs. Sitting by the foot of a trunk, Y/N pauses for some stillness, her back pressing against the hard trunk as she closes her eyes, before grabbing an apple and vial of water to share with her stallion.

As she and the mare finish the fruit, she stands up to brush off any leaf and dirt on the back of her skirt, about to mount once again before she hears echoes of confrontation growing closer. Y/N has barely begun to leave the forest and return to the artery before she is surrounded by hooded, disheveled men with smug expressions.

Unable to avoid contact, she politely acknowledges them and pulls her cape over her flaming locks before she is stopped from moving in either direction. “Good morrow, sirs.”

She yelps as she’s grabbed by her wrists by the men, struggling to stay on her saddle as the mare turns skittish. “Not so fast, my lady. We need something from ya, and you gotta pay up for our silence. Comes with a price.” The men smirk, distant galloping approaching them.

Y/N yelps as she is knocked off her horse, hitting her head against the rock and all turns into darkness around her. She hears a distant echo of another mount heading her way, furious yelling and clattering swords. Her head throbs, feeling the blood dripping down her nape, as her eyes flutter closed.

[padfootagain]

Love in Verses (XXIX)

Chapter 29: ‘My lover’s words were shooting stars which fell to earth as kisses on these lips’

Hi! Here is a new chapter! It’s the poetry reading!!! Also, we’re getting some special guests in this chapter!

I hope you like this chapter! Tell me what you think!

****

Pairing: Hozier x fem!reader (professor!AU)

Warnings: slow burn, angst, hurt, hurt/comfort, tooth-rotting fluff in later chapters, some scenes in later chapters will have heavy sexual themes even if it’s not explicit nsfw description, so minors here

Summary: Your life seems perfect. You're engaged, your career is thriving as you become an assistant professor at Trinity College, and this Andrew Hozier-Byrne you're sharing an office with seems to be a nice guy you hope to call a friend soon. Life seems to be smiling at you... until everything goes sour. When your fiancé breaks up with you, your perfect world shatters. And when your colleague also gets his heart broken soon after, your shared office seems to be a curse rather than a blessing. But Andrew seems determined to mend your broken hearts... Will things finally go according to plan?

Word Count: 5237

Masterlist for the series – Hozier’s masterlist – Main masterlist

Anne Hathaway

‘Item I gyve unto my wief my second best bed…’ (from Shakespeare’s will)

The bed we loved in was a spinning world of forests, castles, torchlight, clifftops, seas where he would dive for pearls. My lover’s words were shooting stars which fell to earth as kisses on these lips; my body now a softer rhyme to his, now echo, assonance; his touch a verb dancing in the centre of a noun. Some nights, I dreamed he’s written me, the bed A page beneath his writer’s hands. Romance and drama played by touch, by scent, by taste. In the other bed, the best, our guests dozed on, dribbling their prose. My living laughing love- I hold him in the casket of my widow’s head as he held me upon that next best bed.

Carole Ann Duffy, The World’s Wife

It was raining in Dublin that afternoon.

Andrew was nervous, to say the least. As he hurried into the bookshop that was hosting his poetry reading, he was questioning all of his life’s choices. If he was proud of his work, if he had been on a stage before, if he was used to talking in front of crowds… he still had dreadful nerves right before any of these events.

He tried to calm down, opening the glass door of the bookshop in a hurry. He was suddenly very aware that the rain must have made his hair look like a bird’s nest, and as he bent to enter the shop, he could feel himself taking up too much space.

He put these thoughts aside, forcing himself to smile as he walked across the shop, recognising his agent instantly as she was talking with the bookshop owner.

“Andy! This is Niamh O’Brien, the owner of the bookshop,” said Caroline, as Andrew shook hands with the fifty-something woman in front of him.

“It’s very nice to meet you, thank you for organising this,” Andrew smiled, his voice sounding a little hoarse as the stress was making his throat tighten.

“Oh, it’s nothing! It’s a pleasure, indeed! Thank you for accepting to come here, I truly admire your work,” complimented O’Brien, making Andrew nod and blush.

“Thanks,” he answered automatically, pushing the compliment away instantly.

“Alright, let’s go to my office so we can run through today’s event, and then I’ll give you a little time to get ready if you need,” explained the owner of the bookshop while they walked across the shop and to a small door at the back, near the Shakespeare section. “As I was telling Caroline, we have a large room upstairs for these readings, for seminaries, lectures… all those things. The response to the advertisement was very encouraging, indeed! We’re expecting over two hundred people today.”

Andrew nervously chuckled.

“I thought this was a small event…”

“I thought it would be! Poetry readings are not always the most popular events, sadly. But we had underestimated the popularity of your work, clearly! We have about two hundred seats upstairs, and we’re expecting a full house!”

“Wow… that’s grand,” Andrew grinned, digging his hands into his pockets.

They walked inside O’Brien’s office, and discussed some details about the afternoon around a warm cup of coffee.

“We have planned some questions after the reading,” O’Brien went on, sipping on her beverage. “Anything that we should… avoid or that you are adamant to discuss?”

“Erm… like… I reckon it’s best if you decide what questions are more relevant. I’m not going to discuss anything too private, though.”

“Too private?”

“Like… my personal life is private, and I want to keep it that way.”

“Of course. I can understand that.”

“Thank you.”

“We gave Caroline a few titles that we would really like you to read, if that’s fine by you. But I’m curious to know what are the other poems you’ve decided to share today.”

“Erm… yeah, totally! Erm… I’ve noted the ones you asked for, I’ll read them obviously. Then, I’ve just picked a few that I felt fitted your selection. I’m also going to publish a few poems next month, so I thought I could read three of these.”

“Oh, that would be amazing! Maybe finish the reading with these new ones!”

“Yeah, I thought I could do that. Do you prefer to read them before hand?”

“Oh, no, no! You’re the author, you choose what you read and want to share today! On the contrary, I can’t wait to discover them when you read them aloud!”

She grinned excitedly.

“Oh, now I truly cannot wait! Right, we still have about forty-five minutes before the reading begins, I’m going to help welcome our visitors. You take some time to get ready, and ask us if you need anything, alright?”

“Totally… yeah. Thank you.”

As soon as O’Brien had left the room, Caroline heaved a sigh, relaxing in her chair while she turned to Andrew.

“You’re ready for today?”

“Of course, I am.”

“Good… are your parents coming? I mean… they always come when the readings are in Dublin, I don’t know why I’m asking,” she chuckled, and Andrew enthusiastically nodded.

“Yeah, they’ll be here! Jon is off to Cork for a project he’s working on, but both my parents are coming.”

“Anyone else you’ll know in the crowd? Alex?”

“No, Alex is busy working on a music project with his new band at the moment. I… I have another friend who’s coming, though.”

“Really? Who?”

“Erm… Her name’s Y/N. We work together, actually.”

As she studied his features, Caroline raised a teasing eyebrow, a grin slowly creeping over her lips.

“And… is this Y/N nice to look at, too?”

“Caroline!” Andrew chuckled, rubbing at his cheek. “She’s just a friend.”

“She is at the moment, perhaps… but is she meant to remain just that?”

Andrew didn’t say anything at first.

“I can’t see the future, you know? I didn’t pass the exams in divination back in College.”

“Are any of these new poems influenced by her?”

Andrew cleared his throat, reached for the thermos of tea and honey he had brought for his throat.

“I wouldn’t know what you’re talking about,” he mumbled under his breath. “I should read these again, just to practice.”

“Yeah, I bet you should,” Caroline laughed, taking her phone out of her purse to check her emails.

Meanwhile, Andrew read some of his poems again, just to remind himself of the pauses, the stresses, the intentions he wanted to add when he would read them out loud. About ten minutes before the beginning of the reading session, he checked his phone. His father had sent him a couple of texts, one to notify him that they were ten minutes away from Dublin, and another later on once he and Andrew’s mother were already seated in the bookshop.

There was another text from you as well, and Andrew’s heart skipped a beat at the sight.

Waiting for the reading to begin! Just wanted to wish you good luck, although I have no doubts you’re gonna kill it!

He started typing while Caroline was checking a few last-minute details.

Hey! Thank you again for coming today, it means a lot to me. I’ll try not to make too much of a fool of myself out there.

 Your answer was almost instantaneous.

No need to thank me for that. I’m glad to be here.

You’ve got a full house btw! I was right to come here early, the room is packed. Some people are sitting on the floor, others are just standing. Apparently they’ve had to turn some people away, there was just no room left.

And I didn’t even know you wrote poetry, shame on me…

Andrew chuckled at that, not noticing that Caroline was talking to him. He was too busy answering.

Ha… thanks. Now, I’m going to die of stress before I can get up there and read.

Also, I hadn’t warned you, but all these people were hired. I’m only trying to impress you.

He realised there was a little bit of flirt in that last message, but he didn’t change it. Instead, he bit on his nail, eyes fixed on his screen while you typed a response.

Ha, that explains it then! You’re actually a rich egomaniac who is forging his success!

He chuckled.

Indeed, I am. You’ve read right through me.

Caroline frowned, but he didn’t notice either.

And I thought you were just a talented poet.

He blushed, tried to brush the compliment away.

Christ, I really am not, trust me.

“Andy!”

Andrew finally looked up, startled.

“Hmm?”

“It’s time to go, come on.”

“Oh, yeah, yeah…”

“You’ll do just fine. You always do great in these.”

Andrew nodded, typing quickly one last message before he would follow Caroline upstairs.

Time’s up. I’ll talk to you after the reading, if you want to stick around a little.

You sent him one last encouraging text that he didn’t have the time to read, but that would make him grin later that night, when he would discover it, hours later.

For now though, he was walking inside the large room, after O’Brien had quickly introduced him, and he waved shyly while the crowd clapped for him. He settled in front of the mic stand, readjusted its height to fit his tall body better.

When he looked up again, he easily spotted his parents, first row, as per usual. They grinned proudly at him, and the sight made him relax instantly. He took one more second to scan the room quickly, and it was indeed packed with people, more than he had anticipated for such an event, that was supposed to be a small gathering.

His eyes finally landed on you, fifth row, grinning at him with genuine excitement. You gave him a thumbs up, and it made him grin, almost laugh. You were wearing a green shirt that was revealing your cleavage a little more than usual, he noticed that right away. He noticed how you were smiling, how your eyes were shining, how you seemed happy to be here.

He blushed, before finally speaking.

You were beyond impressed, to be fair.

Andrew’s deep, soft voice was lulling you into another world, another plane of existence, while you listened to him reading his poems. There was something unbelievably magnetic in the way he spoke, in the way he stood there, alone in a single spotlight, a hand in the pocket of his brown corduroy trousers, the other holding his book. He looked so handsome like this too, curly hair partially tied back, the rest let loose over his shoulders. His brown jacket matched the colour of his trousers, the black of his turtleneck was the same shade as his leather shoes. His glasses perched on his nose caught the light from time to time, but you were obsessed by the eyes beyond them, irises seeming brownish in this light. You noticed that he often looked at you as he spoke, or while he talked a little in between poems, explaining something about the text before he would read it, or sipping on his thermos of hot tea. You spotted the two teabag tags hanging from the grey bottle, and couldn’t refrain a fond smile at the sight. He liked his tea so strong, just like his coffee…

Behind him, across the white wall, there were pictures projected while he read, matching the poems. Sometimes short, silent films. You were particularly struck by the LGBTQ+ meaning on the black and white extract for Take Me To Church, the roughness of the themes for Cherry Wine, the dancers that moved behind Andrew’s frame for Movement. You were more impressed by his work itself though, by the beauty in the images he summoned, the sincerity he seemed to inject into each word, the gentleness he used to speak about love, the complexity of the feeling, too, and the way he talked about sex as an act of worship instead of pure lust, as a sacred act of loving. You loved every second of it.

Finally, he closed his second book, but pulled from it a few loose sheets of paper, and smiled at the crowd.

“We have only a few minutes left, and… erm… I thought I could share with you a few new poems today. They will soon be published in a poetry journal, but this sounded like the perfect occasion to finally… erm… release them into the world and… and… erm… to just, let them loose, I guess. The first one is called Why Would You Be Loved, and it is about… the despair that comes with love. With sharing something so absolute, and wondering why it should even occur to you, and why you should let yourself be engulfed in this kind of… erm… like… this kind of overwhelmingly strong feelings, that will probably hurt you an awful lot, in the end. So… yeah, I definitely thought that I needed to lift up the mood a little for this last part, and thus chose the most pessimistic poem I could find for you all. I expect a lot of smiles and giggles for this one.”

Everyone chuckled at that, and you weren’t an exception.

Although, you were most definitely not laughing when Andrew started reading. He seemed a little more nervous with this poem, you noticed how he was fidgeting with this piece of paper, how his eyes were shining a little more now, how his voice sounded deeper than before.

You listened, not realising that you were tearing up. But you were, you noticed it at last when a tear rolled all the way across your neck, tickling your skin.

His words echoed into your own pain, and you read in them his heartbreak after Samantha’s betrayal.

Why would you play it all on somethin' as hollow as trust?

What if you gave it all, to find that it wasn't enough?

Damn, you brushed your cheeks to dry them on your sleeve. This was echoing in your soul a little too much, a little too desperately…

The woman next to you was crying as well, you noticed the man before you rubbing discreetly at his eyes.

And then Andrew was quiet again. The applause was so loud, he looked up in surprise.

“Erm… thank you,” he smiled, nodding his head. “I… I have a couple more poems. This next one is called NFWMB, you’ll find out pretty quickly what that stands for. And it’s just… I had fun with the theme of the world ending, and I was reading a lot of Yeats too at the time, so there’s a bit of that in there. I just played with the… erm… like, the idea of having your partner being absolutely terrifying, and actually almost… thriving in that chaos. So, yeah…”

He cleared his throat, caught your eyes as he took a deeper breath before starting reading. And there was something different in his gaze, something so intense, it made you unable to look away. When Andrew looked down at his paper to read, his body was still slightly turned in your direction.

Your breath caught in your throat when he spelled out the title, when you realised what this was truly about…

Nothing fucks with my baby

You thought back about that afternoon with him, that conversation. That joke you made about being tougher than you looked; the way he had replied with a serious gaze, a firm tone, that you were tougher than you thought you were.

He looked up right after that verse, caught your eyes with his, and you knew then, you knew without a doubt that this was about you.

If I was born as a blackthorn tree

I'd wanna be felled by you

Held by you

Fuel the pyre of your enemies

But these words, they couldn’t be aimed at you… how could they? Was that what he thought of you? Was that… was that what he was ready to be and do for you?

You were struggling to breathe by the end of the poem.

Did that mean that he wrote about you?! That Andrew wrote love poems about you?

And not just love poems, but poems that showed you as some badass independent woman?!

Was that how he saw you? Strong like that?

“This is our last poem for today. It’s more of a tongue-in-cheek kind of poem. I played with the idea of using language to seduce someone. Especially in poetry, we use words in an aesthetic way, like… erm… like, I wanted to play with that idea of using poetry to lure someone in, in a way… like, using metaphors and beautiful turns of phrase to hide the fact that you just… want to jump their bones, basically.”

He smiled humorously, while the audience laughed and chuckled.

But then his eyes were back on you, and you noticed the way he blushed before he began reading.

He stole a few glances at you throughout the poem, and you almost liquified on your chair when he looked at you right after reading a certain verse…

Imagine being loved by me

I won't deny I've got in my mind now all the things I would do

So I'll try to talk refined for fear that you find out how I'm imaginin' you

You struggled to swallow when he kept eye contact with you while he repeated that verse, your heart pounding, head spinning a bit, and feeling your entire body react to his deep, suave voice speaking these words directly to you.

You could barely breathe by the end of it.

You didn’t pay attention while Andrew was sitting now with O’Brien, you merely clapped along, but couldn’t conjure up any logical thought.

You took a couple of deep breath, feeling your entire body on fire. And then, you were the one imagining things he could do to you as you stared at his hand while it reached the microphone O’Brien was handing him…

The questions offered an interesting insight on many of Andrew’s poems. He sounded passionate about them, about the political messages he wanted to carry, about the vision he had of love and sex and the honesty that he thought was necessary in poetry. You listened attentively, often agreeing with his views. When the interview was over, and the applause had quieted down again, O’Brien announced a short break, before Andrew would sign copies of his books. You weren’t sure if you ought to talk to him now, as people were walking out of the room, some to go home and some to wait outside to get their books signed. You had already bought both of his books, even though you had not read them, wanting to discover Andrew’s work while he would read it. So, you stood there awkwardly for a while, hesitating to walk up to Andrew even though he was now talking to a couple of people he seemed to know, or to walk out of the room.

You were about to listen to your anxious self and walk away to wait for him outside when he called for you.

He approached with a grin on his face, and you tried to ignore how everyone was staring at the two of you.

“Thank you for coming!” he grinned, and you offered him back the same happy smile.

“No need to thank me. On the contrary, thank you for inviting me! It was amazing.”

He looked nervous for a moment.

“You… you liked the poems, then?”

You chuckled.

“That… is the understatement of the century!” you joked, and Andrew seemed deeply relieved. “I loved it. You… your poems are so beautiful, and so deep and complex and insightful and just… amazing. Truly, absolutely stunning.”

He stared at you for a moment looking a little stunned by your words, blushing more and more. He nodded, burying his hands in his pockets.

“Thank you so much. I’m glad you liked my work.”

“I really loved all your poems.”

You saw him biting the inside of his cheek, and he was about to speak again when he was interrupted by the woman he had been talking to a moment before. Actually, she didn’t speak to him, but he must have felt her approaching, and he turned to her with a warm smile.

“Oh, erm… This is Y/N,” Andrew started introducing you while a man was joining them too. “We work together at Trinity, I told you about her. Erm… Y/N, this is my mom Raine, and my dad John.”

You raised a surprised eyebrow, hearing that Andrew had told his parents about you, but you quickly recovered and shook their hands, warmly greeting them.

“Of course! Andy has told us a lot about you, indeed!” Raine nodded, making Andrew blush. “We were thinking about going for a coffee while Andy is signing some autographs. Would you like to join us? We could all go for dinner after that!”

Andrew raised a surprised eyebrow, and looked at you with a careful expression, that seemed to convene the message that you shouldn’t feel pressured to accept if you didn’t feel like it. But you merely grinned, nodding enthusiastically.

“I don’t want to bother you,” you politely declined a first time, but Raine insisted, and this time you accepted, excited at the thought of talking with Andrew’s family.

“Alright,” Andrew nodded, and he seemed a little uncomfortable but happy all the same. “This shouldn’t take too long, I’ll join you all when I’m done here.”

You ended up in a coffeeshop nearby, bought some cake and a coffee with Andrew’s parents. You were a little nervous, worried that they might dislike you, although you refused to dig into the reasons that made your heart quicken with dread. Your fears were unfounded though, the conversation went smoothly, and both of his parents were kind-hearted. His father was a little quieter than Raine, but you couldn’t help but notice how much Andrew and John were alike, both physically and in their behaviour. They made you laugh while telling you some funny stories from Andrew’s childhood, and you answered their questions about your life, your career. Andrew joined you about an hour later, and he offered for all of you to come to his flat for dinner. You didn’t want to intrude, but they all insisted, and so you ended up yielding.

Andrew was nervous, although he tried very hard to hide it.

The adrenaline from the afternoon had not waned yet, he was still a little high on it. The fact that his parents were now sharing some of his childhood stories with you wasn’t helping. It felt a little surreal, to have you talking with them, joking, laughing with his parents. You seemed to easily fit in though, and Andrew couldn’t help but draw the comparison with Sam, how she never quite felt at ease with his parents, especially his father, who was a little more reserved than Raine. But now John was deep in conversation with you, telling you about the days when he was a blues musician, the drummer of a band called Free Booze, and you laughed with him at his anecdotes.

“Of course, everybody was coming in with that written on the sign by the door of whatever pub we were playing at. And once they were inside they thought ‘might as well buy a beer’, and so we were often booked around town!”

You laughed at that.

“So cunning. Great marketing skills right there,” you joked, everybody laughing at the happy memories.

“Ha, these were back in the days,” John heaved a nostalgic sigh. “Then, we had Andrew, and… I had a choice to make. Being a gigging musician wasn’t paying all the bills every months, sometimes it was working well, but other times it was inconsistent. Having a second child, I had to give up on it. Besides, I didn’t feel like travelling around the country with my two lads at home.”

“Do you ever regret quitting music?” you asked, voice gentle.

“No, not really. It was not an easy choice to make, but music demands a lot of sacrifices. And I was certainly not ready to sacrifice my family for it.”

You nodded, humming in quiet agreement.

“So, that’s where your love for music comes from then?” you turned to Andrew, and he nodded with a smile.

“Yeah… grew up being fed a lot of blues, rock, soul music… stuff like that.”

You nodded, before Raine would draw the conversation to another topic. Andrew saw you sneaking a bit of food to Elwood, and he smiled fondly at the sight, his heart growing warm at the thought that you fitted so easily into his family, into his home. His parents seemed to genuinely like you, and you seemed to like them as well. By the end of the evening, you had learned a worrying number of silly anecdotes about Andrew’s childhood, you were planning to exchange recipes with Raine, and were setting a bet on the next win for the Irish Rugby team with John. It seemed easy for you to fit into the bubble of love that surrounded Andrew. Sam had never felt like that…

His parents were staying a little longer, planning on helping Andrew clean up, but they all shushed you when you offered to help. You seemed tired, Andrew could see it, and he knew you had classes early the next day. He offered to walk you back to your car, just so that he could steal a few minutes alone with you.

“Thank you for today, Andy! It was grood craic!” you grinned up at him as you both walked across the street towards your car.

“Thank you for coming. I hope my parents weren’t too obnoxious, especially while I wasn’t around.”

“No! Not at all! Your parents are lovely.”

“Yeah… yeah, they’re very nice people.”

“And now I have so much to work with to laugh at you… mister ‘I’m a bad boy because I climbed a rotten tree thinking it was a ladder, and now I have scar on my chest and I look like I was attacked by a bear!’”

You both exploded with laughter, Andrew shaking his head.

“Christ, don’t tell that to anyone, I’m begging you…”

“Don’t worry, my lips are sealed.”

You reached your car, but lingered by the door, turning to him instead.

And God, you looked so beautiful like this, in your black jeans and green shirt… the lights of the lampposts shining in your hair. It wasn’t raining anymore, but the street was still damp, tainted with orange hues by the light.

He wanted to kiss you so badly…

“Andy… can I ask you something?”

“Hmm?” he encouraged you, tilting his head to the side a little.

“I… I assume the poems you wrote in your collections are about Sam, as you were together at the time, but… the ones you added… the new poems you read at the end of the session… were they about her as well?”

Andrew’s heart started to quicken its pace until it was pounding. He nervously rubbed his palms together.

“Hmm… no. I wrote these after she left, so… they were not about her. They… they are about another woman.”

He intensely stared at you, silently trying to convey his feelings. That the poems were about you, about his desire for you, about how strong he thought you were…

He saw that you were struggling to swallow, heard that your breath was catching in your throat. He could have sworn that you were glimpsing at his lips…

But then you shook yourself, and looked away in a hurry.

“Well, good night, Andy! I’m gonna read the rest of your poems this weekend. I’d love to talk about it with you next week, if that’s okay.”

“Yeah! That would be grand, yeah. Sure… Totally!”

You exchanged a shy smile, before you would turn to your car.

And as he watched you drive away, Andrew wondered if you had understood him. If you knew that he had written NFWMB and Talk for you. And if you had, indeed, understood him… were you running away now? Had he made you uncomfortable? Perhaps he shouldn’t have chosen these poems after all, perhaps he should have kept them a secret, or at least, hidden their true meaning, hidden that they were about you.

He walked back to his home, helped his parents wash the dishes.

“Y/N is such a lovely woman!” Raine praised while Andrew was getting busy washing the plates.

“She is,” he nodded with a soft smile.

“Very smart, and with a lovely humour too,” John approved with a nod, putting the washed glasses back into the right cupboard.

“And she is very beautiful,” Raine added. “And single.”

Andy laughed, although he was blushing.

“Mom! Stop it! How do you even know she’s single?”

“I asked her!”

“You’re incorrigible…” Andrew laughed, shaking his head.

“All I’m saying is that… she’s beautiful, around the same age as you, that she… has a strong career, a stable situation. And as your father said, she has a lovely personality, she’s smart… and you seem to have a lot in common. And she seems to be so nice, Andy. So very nice…”

“She is,” Andrew nodded quietly.

Raine looked carefully at her son for a moment, before speaking again.

“You like her, don’t you?”

Andrew said nothing, merely pressed the sponge against a plate.

“You know, we’ve never told you about it but… your father and I… we’ve never really liked Samantha very much.”

Andrew chuckled.

“I know, mom. It was pretty obvious.”

“She was… I don’t know. There was something off with her. I’ve never felt like she fitted into your world very well. Not that a couple should share everything! It’s very important that you both have hobbies of your own, some things that belong to you. But it’s something else entirely to show no interest in your partner’s life.”

“She made efforts,” Andrew answered, growing defensive out of habit more than conviction.

“She never came to your readings. She never read your poetry…”

“She doesn’t like poetry…”

“And I don’t know anything about music. I still listen to your father when he talks about it, still try to support him in the things he loves, even though I don’t understand it on the same level as he does. Just like your father supported me with my art, with me going back to university for a degree…”

Slowly, Andrew nodded.

“You’re right. She wasn’t like that with me.”

Slowly, Raine nodded.

“It’s good that you can see that now, son,” John patted Andrew’s shoulder.

“Hmm…”

“We really want to see you happy, you know?” Raine added, and Andrew nodded with a tender smile. “So… Y/N… for how long have you been writing poems about her?”

Andrew laughed, clearly uncomfortable now.

“Who said I am?”

“Come on now, I’m not blind. The way you look at her…”

Andrew blushed all the way up to his ears.

“Have you asked her out yet?” John asked, but Andrew shook his head.

“We’re both getting out of difficult break-ups… I don’t think this is the right time. I don’t think I feel ready for that. I… I like her a lot. I don’t want to mess it up because I’m trying to move on too soon.”

He didn’t tell them that he was in love with you. That he had fallen in love with you a little bit more every day for months now… that he kept on falling every time he looked at you, with every conversation and every new detail he learnt about you.

No, he didn’t tell them that. Instead, he merely cleared his throat.

“Anyway… I don’t think she sees me like that at all,” he added, but both his parents exchanged a look, and then chuckled fondly at their son.

“You can be so blind sometimes, Andy…” John shook his head.

“What?”

“She likes you. A lot,” Raine stated as if it was the most obvious truth on Earth.

Andrew blinked at her, his hands still in soapy water.

Did you? Did you like him? Really?

[hehosts-moved]

❝ you're right, �� he says, and he seems almost faceless then. it isn't mine, he should say. not for much longer. ❝ you always are. ❞ is this part of his charm? or is he being sincere? when it's here — at this place, at shining! — it can be hard to tell. in the office, he is much more candid. in the office, he is (almost) yori. ❝ you have secrets. i know you do. ❞

he thinks she's eluded to them. he doesn't know much about her, if he's being honest. he doesn't even know she's cavorting partaking in evenings with a snake —— with a cobra. he finally takes a drink from his own glass. it's not as watered down as it should be. it never is. ❝ i don't want to beat myself up. ❞

enough people do that for me. ❝ and i can't really say this to anyone else, but i don't want to be honest ... not with them. not about this. there are some things i still have to keep from hina, but ... i mean, why bother, right? she's a woman who finds out everything. like you. but ... you're different. in a lot of ways, actually, but what i mean is that ... you don't have to pull anything out of me. it just ... comes out. that's something i've had to perfect over the years. for you, it seems natural. ❞

people didn't want to talk to him much before, not in the way he needs them to now. as yori, he was always just on the outside — never quite fit in. now, here under the red light, he's exotic. what made him undesirable then, what made them frightened of him, draws them in now. the irony of it all. it's so bitter. he tastes pennies for a moment.

❝ my son is only five, ❞ he reiterates, ❝ but he's very particular. ❞ and anxious. particular is a kind way of putting it. kyosuke is very much a child molded by his father's influence. ❝ he has a certain vision of me now ... and he always has. that vision is important to him. it's been only the two of us and my mother for his whole life, really. hina and i were only married a year or so ... ❞ a sigh. why is he telling her this? i'm afraid she already knows ... somehow. ❝ i love my son, but he's already very judgmental. i've tried to break him of that, but it seems ... deep-rooted. ❞ a beat. ❝ my mother is ... fragile. physically and otherwise. she's a kind woman. ❞ and strong. stronger than he gives her credit for. she raised him on her own, after all. yet, he seems to regard her as something he needs to protect the same as his own son. ❝ i don't want to put that on her. ever. ❞

oftentimes, parenthood eludes her. her own experience of it — observing her father and mother before their paths untimely diverged — was unconventional, and she attributes her disinclination towards parenthood now, at the age she’s in, at least partially, to those latent conventions. the significance of keeping a secret, however, she’s intimately familiar with, for better or worse. “ there’s some things… ” she wraps fingers around the long stem of her glass, index nail beginning to tap a steady rhythm against the curve of the bowl. “ whether it’s to protect themselves or the people around them, everyone keeps secrets, right? there’s some things the people in our lives don’t need to know, for whatever reason. for no reason at all, even. if you don’t feel it’s time… ” she drifts off, letting silent seconds pass. “ i just don’t think you should keep beating yourself up over it. ”

[absolutebl]

This Week in BL - The Industry is Having Issues But the Spice Spicy Must Flow

Organized, in each category, with ones I'm enjoying most at the top.

March 2024 Wk 4

Ongoing Series - Thai

Two Worlds (Thurs IQIYI) eps 1-2 of 10 - One of those "he's dead Jim so time travel" thingames starring MaxNat. I'm over this concept but I do enjoy MaxNat. Phupha (Gun) and Khram (Nat) love each other but Phupha is murdered. Then Khram is pulled to a parallel world where, years ago, Khram and Tai (Max) were in love. However, Khram was killed by Tai’s dad. Now Tai finds alter-Khram. But then there is ALSO an alter-Phupha to deal with. (Phupha is played by Gun Thanawat who was Khom, the repressed butler bodyguard from Unforgotten Night. We like this, but we scared of the love triangle aspect.) Did that make sense? Yeah, okay, see what I mean?

Initial thoughts?

The subs are troubling but I’m enjoying this show a lot. It’s nice to see MaxNat get something meaty to sink their teeth into - that’s not just each other. Also it’s so smart of them to give us a fully fleshed out entire episode developing the alter romance rather than just a separation + death. It makes Khram’s grief and motivation that much more believable. Also it’s really nice to see Nat have good chemistry with other actors. 

Deep Night (Thurs iQiyi) ep 3 of 8 (10?) - I'm still enjoying it. But Two Worlds is objectively better. So this one has lost ranking. Also, unexpectedly chili (the name of my heavy metal Thai cover band).

Lovey switchy and verse main couple too.

This is all quite pleasing.

The bit where the hosts pretend to be a BL couple actor ship was epic on so many levels.

Also unsettling.

All sex work is performative, and in a way there is something more honest about this depiction, in this setting, than what BL actors are made to do on the promo circuit. Which then begs the question, how different is BL from sex work? That's the unsettling bit, for me anyway. Not to slam on sex work AT ALL, we pro-the-true-pros on this damn blog, but actors have been shaded by association with True Professionals for a very long time and BL has already had one epic shut down in this regard. (See the PerthSaint scandal around Love By Chance, no I will not explain.) Where was I? Oh yes, so anyway, see the Gossip section for the part where they better be paid either way!

Also, since I'm a warped fucker, I found this scene funny.

And then hilarious when all of those BL tropes were just trotted out. Like a greatest hits reel.

Truly beyond meta. (How Absolute BL of them.)

Note he’s even standing in yaoi's patented "hands in pocket with the shoulders back"? 

Meanwhile, the gayest bridge in Thailand made its quarterly appearance:

And lip serviced was paid to the most touristy romantic things you can do in Bangkok.

And I mean lip service literally. 

To Be Continued (Thai C3 Thailand grey) ep 5 of 8 - I’m still enjoying it but getting more and more nervous. We getting too close to Promise territory for comfort. EXPLAIN Ji’s reticence well and do it now or risk audience mistrust. We have to be given a GOOD reason for Ji's behavior, or he'll be irredeemable.

City of Stars (Fri iQIYI) ep 8 of 12 - NO SINGING. Yes smiley kisses and good communication and a nice healthy relationship. But no singing!

1000 Years Old ep 6 of 12 - Dropping in the ranks. I’m sorry it’s just gotten boring. It has, however, inspired me to invest in my own ridiculous cream fuzzy sweater. Which I plan to wear with leather trousers and huge stumpy boots, like the Kpop queer I truly am. Or do I mean vampire? 

Kiseki Chapter 2 (Sun iQIYI) ep 1 of 6 - Seems to be an excuse for a small posse of Thai actors to wander around Tokyo playing tourist and sing in public . Someone stop them?

“Most people think this kind of thing is bad manners .”

Anyway, it’s v boring. I’ll give it one more ep but I suspect I’ll DNF.

Close Friend Season 3: Soju Bomb! (Weds iQIYI) eps 1-2 of 6 - Meh. This is also looking suspiciously DNF-a-licious.  

Ongoing Series - Not Thai

Unknown (Taiwan Tues Youku YouTube & Viki) ep 5 of 11 - It's brilliant. I love it. I'm ready to hurt. Let’s do this thing. 

Distribution note: This one has been picked up and is also airing on Viki now, so it may lose YT distribution in soem territories. I like Youku's hard subs better than Viki's subs, but that's a matter of preference not information since I don't speak Mandarin.

Love is Better the Second Time Around AKA Koi wo Suru nara Nidome ga Joto (Japan Weds Gaga) ep 3 of 6 - It is good. Every week I like this show a little more. I'm enjoying a reunion romance explored in Japan's quintessentially contemplative yet slightly surreal way. The juxtaposition of the tenderness of the sex scene with this Japanese brand of authenticity was oddly elegant - for lack of a better way of putting it. All in all, this is a good show. Thought provoking. Stylish.

AntiReset (Taiwan Fri Viki/Gaga) ep 9 of 10 - It remains lovely but they sure are reusing a lot of footage. Also, this was a classic penultimate doom episode. I do wonder how they are going to resolve this show ethically.

My Strawberry Film (Japan Thurs Gaga) ep 6 of 8 - It is what it is, and it isn’t my style of show no matter what country of origin. Oddly that's one of the reasons I don't like it. Anyone could have made this, it's not as Japanese as I want it to be, it's just indie film club high school angst. Yawn.

I watched it, finally

The Servant and the Young Master (Vietnam YouTube) 7 eps - I dislike vertical filming, but I kind of enjoyed this show as a BL. I like class conflict romances. For me the rich kid is a bit too dictatorial (edges into bulling), but it’s kinda works. It’s sparse and underdeveloped and a bit plotless, but mildly entertaining. If you're missing Vietnamese BL you might give it a try. 6/10 

Began Beginning (Myanmar YouTube) 8eps - A Burmese BL that I had thoughts about but actually ended up recommending. Read the saga here:

It's done, ready to binge, but I suck

What Did You Eat Yesterday Season 2 AKA Kinou Nani Tabeta? Season 2 (Japan Gaga) 10 eps

It's airing but...

Graduation Countdown (Taiwan YouTube) ep 1 of ? - on one hand it's micro-installment vertical, on the other it's adorable and from Taiwan. I blame @heretherebedork entirely for my conundrum. As indeed, I did for My Type back in the day. (That was Nat Chen's first BL, yes of Kiseki: Dear To Me fame.) So I think I will also simply lean on Here to let me know when it's done and binge all at once. It's just too much to ask me to keep up with 2 minute pieces, I don't have that kind of endurance training, not even for BL.

Time the series (Tue Gaga/YT) 10 eps - it's finished now, I dropped it at ep 4. Should I bother?

A Secretly Love (Thai Sat WeTV grey) 10 eps - I watched the first ep but grey is too much work for this inferior of a show. I may pick up and binge if it gets distribution but for now, it gets a DNF from me. KimCop might have held this crap together but Kim without Cop? No thank you.

Lady Boy Friends (Thai WeTV grey) 16 eps - reminds me a bit too much of Diary of Tootsies only high school. Not my thing. DNF unless it turns a corner and is truly amazing for some reason.

Man Suang that MileApo vehicle from last year is coming to Netflix in the USA. I haven't heard much about it and since the KP stans would have lost their tiny minds if it was any good at all, I'm assuming it's not good at all.

Gossip

Thai BL actor Yoon breaks with his former company and talks about some very very VERY shady goings on in the Thai BL industry. Including not being paid.

And whacha know, same thing happening in Korean BL.

Have I mentioned recently how much I hate the film industry?

Next Week Looks Like This:

Starting Soon

3/31 Only Boo! (Thai GMMTV YouTube) 12 eps - New main couple for GMMTV in an idol romance about a boy who dances good and a food stand vendor. Other side of the tracks grumpy/sunshine pair who fall deeply in love but, of course, baby boy idol can't date. Boyband but from GMMTV? Control your singing and I'm game.

4/1 Love is like a Cat (Korea ????) 12 eps - This completed filming Aug 2022(!) which means there have been serious problems with post-production. This is another of Silkwood's Korean+Thai colab projects. Mew Suppasit plays a rookie film star, called the Cat Prince (for his cold arrogance) who goes up against a charismatic puppyish animal daycare director (JM of JUST B). There is also a side romance (love triangle?) with a veterinarian. Geonu of JUST B is also in the cast.

I wonder if this was part of the hold up, with Geonu on Build Up right now, they might have tried to muffle this one. Or maybe it's just that bad...

4/3 We Are (Thai GMMTV YouTube) 12 eps - University ensemble BL featuring PondPhuwin, WinnySatang, AouBoom, MarcPawinPoon - basically the good kind of messy gay friendship group (so more My Engineer and less Only Friends). Looks a bit like the Kiss series but everyone is queer. I'm IN!

Knock-Knock Boys (Thai WeTV?) - 4 college friends conspire to help their friend lose his virginity. Familiar faces like Seng (yes, Billy's previous partner), Best and frest face, news here.

Upcoming BLs for 2024 are listed here. This list is not kept updated, so please leave a comment if you know something new or RP with additions.

NOTE: It looks like one of my personal favorites of last year Unintentional Love Story is getting a spin off!

THIS WEEK’S BEST MOMENTS

Without ghost girl.

With ghost girl.

I think she may be my favorite part of 1000 Years.

CLASSIC tsundere seme description of a sunshine uke. Like classic'est of classic. (Two Worlds)

Is there such a thing as a tired trope in a BL? Since it is a genre that is made up entirely of tropes quilted together? Your philosophical question for today brought to you by Deep Night's kabedon (Japanese trope) + punishment threat (Thai trope).

Love me a lap sit moment. (City of Stars)

(Last week)

Streaming services are listed by how I (usually) watch, which is with a USA based IP, and often offset by a day because time zones are too much work.

The tag BLigade: @doorajar @solitaryandwandering @my-rose-tinted-glasses @babymbbatinygirl @babymbbatinygirl @isisanna-blog @mmastertheone

If ya wanna be tagged each week leave a comment and I will add you to the template. Easy peesy.

[yevmarie]

Light My Fire | Chapter 7

Masterlist

< Chapter 6 | Chapter 7 | Chapter 8 >

Pairing: Daryl Dixon x Female Reader

Word count: 2.3k

Pronouns: you, she/her

Warnings: angst, mentions of depression, swearing, mentions of physical abuse towards other people, detailed description of typical TWD violence, differences from the main plot may occur, bad English (not my first language).

Taglist: @your-shifting-gurl @bae-live-0 @richardsamboramylove55 @deansapplepie @snailss @denisecabrera @dreamtofus @duckybird101

You were sitting near the tent, trying to occupy your mind with the book you had taken at the beginning of the outbreak when you left home. The novel was so good that you binge-read it after Rick got to the hospital. That was the only thing that distracted you somehow, almost the cure for the hours spent crying after calls with Lori, who always said the doctor's forecast had been discouraging.

Now, everything was different. Although you reunited with your friend, other things were bothering you. Thoughts rushed after every sentence being read.

Is Merle alive? Will the group come back? Should I tell everything to Rick? But that fucker Shane almost killed me today. Shit! The neck hurts so much I'd probably have bruises forming a 'necklace' in a day. Shane is scaring the hell out of me. Why is he doing that to me? Did I deserve it after all my love given to him? I think I deserve just nothing good. If any good is even left in this world…

You cursed to yourself, noticing that familiar Depression FM finding the 'right' radio wave in your mind. The host today is so cruel; he plays that shitty song with the lyrics derived from your brain. And that fucking cassette tape is broken, repeating every verse again and again. You knew what to do in such cases.

"Ms. Y/LN, there's one technique that helps to get rid of repetitive unhealthy thoughts. But it needs practice as any of them. So close your eyes and imagine a bus stop, some familiar one to you. Perhaps near your work. This must be the place you know well to add realism to your brain."

You put the book aside and leaned back on the tree to relax your body. You closed your eyes, took a deep breath, and imagined the bus stop near your office. This is a busy street full of office workers fussing around and cars honking.

"Good. Now imagine the bus you are waiting for."

You are standing in your uncomfortable office outfit, praying to catch the bus quicker and get home. And here it is!

"When it arrives, come up to it."

You make several steps, slightly losing balance as some teenage girl pushes you, aiming to get in faster than you to take a seat.

"The doors are opening, and you get in but notice one unpleasant thing… The people inside only talk about you. About your insecurities. They literally repeat your thoughts out loud, saying them to you in your face."

"You don't deserve love," an old grumpy lady says, looking at you with side eyes.

You take a step further, aiming for the part of the bus with fewer people, finding a man wearing total black: a leather jacket, jeans, massive boots, and bike gloves. He is saying nothing to you. He's not even looking at you, listening to whatever music is playing in his earphones.

"Love? Don't be ridiculous," the teenage girl who had pushed you before chuckled. "She just deserves nothing good."

Another step up to the man when he finally turns to you. Pale blue eyes, three-day stubble, a bit outgrown haircut, two cute moles on the face, one above his thin lips. Although his frame is wide and the outfit is brutal, he doesn't seem like that. He's calm.

"Daryl?" you whispered, standing up too close to him, the haunting scent mixed of his cologne, leather, and tobacco hitting your brain, sending waves of excitement through your veins.

"Yeah, talking about Daryl," a clerk sitting near you, reading a newspaper, caught your attention, "He thinks you are useless."

"Reckless," a woman cooing to her baby corrected the clerk.

"He talks to you out of pity," another voice said.

"He's not interested in you," added yet another.

All the hurtful voices meshed together, making your tears swell in your eyes. Daryl took off his earphones and passed them to you. You plugged them in and heard… Nothing! Except the silent echo of your heartbeat. You noticed people were still talking to you but couldn't hear them. Daryl cupped your face with his calloused, warm palms, still looking into your eyes. His gaze was calm, gentle, and loving. He leaned closer, narrowing the space between your faces, looking down at your lips; his breath tickled your sences as you savored the moment with anticipation.

"Ms. Y/LN, after hearing everything the passengers have told you, would you get off the bus?"

"No," you whispered, closing your eyes and feeling Daryl's lips touching yours in a sensual kiss.

FUCK!

You opened your eyes and threw the book away towards the tent.

"So, have I fallen for Daryl?" you asked yourself, desperately sighing, as surely daydreaming about the hunter wasn't planned, when suddenly you saw a familiar woman figure approaching you - Lori.

"Y/N, can I ask you to look after Carl and Sofia?" the woman's expression was concerned, obviously stressed out by something. You only nodded in consent, not wishing to talk, and stood up to go for the children. But your hope of no dialogue with the woman was dispelled in a second when she gently grabbed your forearm.

"We need to talk, Y/N."

"Enough talking for me today," you mumbled and stepped forward but were stopped again by Lori's touch.

"Please," she begged sincerely. "I… I'm really sorry for all that," her voice shaky. "I didn't know you still had feelings for him."

"You never asked," your response was just a guillotine, cutting off all potential reasoning.

"If you had only told me before… Perhaps I'd still be devastated, but I knew you were fair to me. And after some time, I'd accept it," you looked at your crying former friend and felt the pain hit your chest.

"Look, I'm not aiming to hurt you. Just trust me, it doesn't bring me any satisfaction. I'm not a monster. I just want to let you know I've always expected some tricks from Shane but not from you. Because you know what? I've always thought friendship is stronger. Love just comes and goes. But you betrayed me."

"Okay, okay," Lori nodded, sobbing, and was going to walk away, but you stepped aside and appeared on her way.

"I could overcome it and forgive you one day. But if Rick doesn't… He just doesn't deserve all of this."

"He'll never know," her answer outraged you. She was so sure you wouldn't tell Rick.

And honestly, she was right and wrong at the same time by saying this. You face the dilemma of telling Rick everything you know and destroying his family and friendship with Shane. Or you just step back and lose another close person like Rick because you'd not be able to even look into his eyes and act like everything is going fine and finally betray him by keeping silent. You didn't know what to do, and this tortured you.

"Then I'll just be nice to you for the love of Rick and Carl. I can't offer more; I'm sorry," you turned around and walked toward the campfire, leaving Lori alone. "I'll look after Carl and Sofia." 

Hours later, when you were spending time with the children, the camp was shocked by another event: Shane beat up Ed after he hit Carol. You felt sorry for the woman and reasoned her to have her rest, though you had planned otherwise before, and took your duty to help in the kitchen and stew the squirrels for the group. 

It was getting darker; the group was having dinner, but no one returned from the run to Atlanta. You saved the portions for the men and started cleaning the place you called the kitchen. You couldn't have your rest; otherwise, you would go crazy. Or eat as the food stuck in your throat again. Your nerves were being torn to shreds. 

But Amy's wrenching scream cut off the silence you mistakenly considered agonizing.

"Walkers!" people yelled. 

The chaos burst in seconds, resulting in fussing, cries, and shooting. The latter bothered you the most as it was uncontrollable, and you were scared to take a slug. You ran to the table and took a knife, scanning the situation around. Lori and Carl were hiding behind shooting Shane; that's good. You were looking for Carol and Sofia, who were near Shane as well but were more vulnerable to attack. 

You were going to run to them but heard upcoming rasps just near yourself. Turning around, you stabbed the walker's head, hearing the gut-wrenching sound of tearing skin and breaking skull. The blood spraying on your face and the smell almost made you vomit. The body fell on the ground when another walker approached you, snapping its teeth and stretching its arms to you. You kicked it in the chest so you had more space for maneuvering, swaying your arm holding the knife to damage the skull of the lying dead. 

You stood up, taking a deep breath and wiping the sweat off your forehead. Other shooting noises were reaching the camp. You heard Rick's voice calling his family when you fell, being pushed down to the ground. Your chest took a pasting by falling flat on the ground, and the air from your lungs was beaten away. You realized the snapping teeth were inches from your skin, so at least you needed to push it away from you to kill, but the body was so heavy you couldn't make a move. 

Suddenly, you felt the weight above was lifted from you, thrown somewhere away, and shot, so you jumped out of your skin, instinctively closing your ears. Then, your body was lifted easily as if you were a featherweight. An arm tugs around you, pushing your back into someone's body. 

"Ya okay?" you know this gruff voice.

You quickly nodded and squizzed his forearm, thanking god Daryl returned to the camp. 

"Stay behind; it's clear there," the archer freed you from his hug and continued shooting the dead. 

Several minutes passed when the last walker was down. You were panting, trying to catch your breath, and dropped to your knees as your muscles were aching. You looked back and saw Rick hugging his family. Carol and her daughter were safe, but the field around the camp was covered with dead flesh — the bitter payment for your close people to be alive. 

"Y/N," you heard Rick approaching you, helping you stand up, "Are you okay?"

"Yeah," you nodded, standing up, but your legs were wobbling, so the sheriff had to help you keep your balance by holding you by your back.

"Where's Merle?" 

"He escaped, but we couldn't find either him or his body."

The hope died in your eyes, turning your gaze to as black as night. 

"Y/N, can you tell me something?"

"Hm?" you hummed, fluttering your eyes open as if you were returning from a trance. 

"Did Merle and you..?" 

"No," you cut short his question and were trying to walk away, but Rick stopped you, standing next to you, gently holding your shoulders. 

"Is it because of Daryl?" by an odd coincidence, the name mentioned made you stiffen so that Rick's touch read your tensity.

"What do you mean?" 

"Do you like him?" 

You stiffened even more, and the opportunity to lie about something faded. Considering you were talking to the sheriff, who was too good at reading people. Furthermore, when they were close ones. 

"No. We just became friends," you put his arm aside, hinting you'd like to walk away. This dialogue was leading to some strange course. "Rick, I wanna sleep, let's talk tomorrow, okay?" 

Your friend nodded and stared after you walking away. 

"So, why do you sleep in Daryl's tent?" you stopped and turned around to the man. 

"Because you got back, and there's not enough space for four of us."

"You had already moved to Dixons. There was no stuff of yours. Or you are a medium." 

"Rick, is it cross-examining?"

"I just wonder why you behave so strangely. If you like some of the brothers, it changes everything. I'll insist on searching. If you don't have feelings but still hang out with them when your family is here. Then I assume you'd had some fighting with Lori and…"

"Hey man," Shane appeared out of nowhere, approaching Rick. "Let's discuss our plans for tomorrow. We need to do something with the bodies." 

You mentally thanked your ex and quickly walked to the tent. Getting inside of it, you noticed the archer was already sleeping. Perhaps he was so tired he didn't give a damn where he was going. And at least it's his tent. You grabbed your blanket to move to Merle's, but Daryl's voice stopped you.

"Ain't sleeping. Get inside. It's better to stick together if another horde is coming. Not gonna touch ya," the hunter's sleeping voice made some magic to you as you got in and laid down back to him without hesitation. You covered yourself with the blanket, but it was too much already as you were flushed red, and all your blood was running in hot impulses through your body.

"Is it okay?" Daryl wanted to reassure himself you were fine with this. 

"Yeah," you replied. 

"So, if Rick noticed, then when will you accept you have fallen for Daryl, Y/N?" you told yourself and shut your eyes tightly as if it would help you fall asleep faster.

< Chapter 6 | Chapter 7 | Chapter 8 >

[asimplearchivist]

𝓢𝓪𝓭 𝓔𝓷𝓭𝓲𝓷𝓰

𝐄𝐍𝐓𝐑𝐘 𝐕 𝐨𝐟 𝐗𝐗𝐕

[𝓪𝓼𝓲𝓶𝓹𝓵𝓮𝓪𝓻𝓬𝓱𝓲𝓿𝓲𝓼𝓽'𝓼 𝓶𝓪𝓼𝓽𝓮𝓻𝓵𝓲𝓼𝓽] [ 𝐌𝐎𝐎𝐍 𝐊𝐍𝐈𝐆𝐇𝐓 𝐌𝐀𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐏𝐎𝐒𝐓 ] AO3 | SPOTIFY | PINTEREST summary ☾ ⤏ you and jake enjoy having movie nights, but he has the habit of spoiling the endings for you. this time is different, though. pairing(s) ☽ jake lockley/reader-centric | constellations!verse word count ☾ 1.9k a/n ☽ ⤏ my fifth entry for the moon knight bingo hosted by @juneknight and @spacecowboyhotch over at @moonknight-events. I will eventually crosspost this to the main fic for constellations on ao3 when it will best fit the chronological progression of the chapters. this takes place post-chapter iii. ⤏ this one derailed from me as well. I swear these guys have minds of their own. this ended up being a lot sappier than I intended, but...c'est la vie. I love one jake lockley. ☽ MASTERPOST ☾ ☾ PREVIOUS ENTRY ⤎ ☥ ⤏ NEXT ENTRY ☽

“I’ll never forgive you for this.”

“Come on, querida. You should’ve had some idea that this would happen.”

“No, I absolutely did not!” You lifted your face from your hands, twisting to the side with your elbows still planted on your knees in order to glare up at your smirking fellow historical drama critic. “It’s not my fault that I don’t have a sixth sense for figuring out plot lines in the first ten minutes like you do!”

“Says the writer,” he chuckled, eyes glittering. “If it makes you feel any better, Steven wasn’t expecting it, either.”

That did, actually. You and Steven had long since developed the practice of conducting ongoing commentaries and speculations on the potential plotline based on the details revealed in whatever media you’d enjoy together—be it TV shows, movies, or books (print or audio)—whereas Jake was more the type to verbalize his predictions as they came to him, disregarding any suspension of disbelief. At least Marc only remarked on the glaring inaccuracies regarding combat, weapons, or injuries that Hollywood lauded for exaggerated effect.

On one hand, it used to drive you crazy—you preferred to experience things as they unfolded and let the story tell itself, following along for the ride…but, on the other hand, the knowing gleam in Jake’s eyes, the smug tilt of his close-lipped grin, and the way he’d start to pay more attention to you instead of the film (particularly with his hands—rubbing his palm over the line of your, at times, tense shoulders, grasping the nape of your neck and stroking the pad of his thumb along your hairline and under the shell of your ear, or petting your head like one would a beloved pet—about which you could never truly complain) eroded your exasperation over time. Now you almost looked forward to it—even if you still gave him a hard time about the inevitable spoilers involved.

Tonight, it would seem, however, that he’d decided to bide his time in order to see your unprepared reaction without dropping an obvious statement that would have indicated the plot twist to you ahead of time. For once, admittedly, you would’ve appreciated the warning.

“How could they say that about her?” you bemoaned, eyes returning to the screen with prolific lamentation. “She’s literally done nothing to them—she doesn’t even want to marry him, they didn’t have to drag her reputation through the mud!”

“I don’t know what to tell you, querida,” Jake chuckled, “it was visible from miles away.”

You huffed and turned away from him, refocusing your attention on the television screen. You watched the protagonist’s subsequent emotional breakdown with trepidation, frowning as she was scorned and criticized by the people that should have been her allies and had claimed to have been her friends. The only people that believed she was innocent in the matter were her sister and, fortunately, her love interest. He arrived late the next rainy night on a raven-black horse that shivered and bellowed mist from his nostrils as the man, drenched and pensive, dismounted to greet the distressed young woman at the door of her family’s home.

“Hey,” Jake murmured, nudging your side with his elbow. “It’ll turn out fine.”

You glanced up at him, relaxing slightly. You’d been teased in the past by several people for being so emotionally invested in fictional characters and their plight—your ex included—and while you weren’t ashamed of the fact you had the ability to extend so much empathy (even in hypothetical situations), you were sensitive to what others might think. Steven didn’t mind—he was much the same as you, honestly, and that was such a relief. Marc didn’t seem to mind one way or the other, thankfully. But Jake was a notorious tease and found a lot of joy in flustering you, and you were still getting used to gauging his personality since you hadn’t known him as long as the other two—so that he wasn’t poking fun at you about this was a monumental relief.

“I know,” you breathed, sinking into his side. He coiled his arm around your shoulders in response. “He’ll save the day with his money and marry her silly. These things never have sad endings.”

Jake hummed and drummed his fingertips on your upper arm. “It’s a good thing. Wouldn’t want you to be sad, chaparrita. Might have to pay that studio a stern visit otherwise.”

You rolled your eyes, but your heart squeezed at the sentiment—as aggressive as it was. There was one thing that you had learned for certain since meeting him: Jake showed his love through protectiveness as opposed to the gentler means of the other two men. You’d never want him to hurt someone for you, necessarily (unless they deserved it, of course), but the thought that he would be willing to go up to bat for you, that he had your back no matter what, was far more reassuring than you had ever expected it to be. (Something, something, scary guard dog privileges.)

“Some movies need them, though,” you pointed out. “Sometimes that’s the whole point of the story—something out of the characters’ control happens, and they have to decide how they’ll react. Other times it’s pointless, serves no greater purpose to enhance the plot.”

“Shit happens in real life for no reason, though,” Jake pointed out, voice low as the music onscreen swelled. The love interest was embracing the weeping protagonist, having informed her that he had, in fact, solved the issue. “Sometimes there’s nothing you can do about it.”

You nodded, dropping your head onto his shoulder. “Some people are fortunate enough to have happy endings, though,” you murmured. “It’s a dangerous thing to claim, because things could always go wrong, but…” You swallowed, tucking your nose under the lapel of his shirt. “...I’m glad I met you guys. It was worth everything I’ve gone through.”

Jake stilled, falling silent. You had also learned that such intimate proclamations tended to throw him for a loop—he was not accustomed to revealing his inner emotions, since he’d repressed them (and himself) for so long. He was getting better at communicating in general, thanks to Steven’s long-suffering patience and gentle coaxing, but you could tell anything ‘mushy’ made him slightly uncomfortable. (Having noticed this, you’d asked him early on if he wanted you to slow down on giving him affection—but he’d visibly recoiled at that suggestion, more demanding than asking you not to stop. You could only really speculate since he didn’t talk about it much, but you knew that if you were in his position, even if such attention was new, you’d be famished for it. You’d decided he was just embracing his adjustment period instead of avoiding it, like Marc had tended to do at first.)

He shifted, angling his body closer to yours, and tucked the end of his nose behind the shell of your ear. “...We’re glad we met you, too, querida,” he finally murmured, his free hand slipping down to curl around the knob of your knee. He pressed his face into your neck, and you wondered if he could feel your pounding pulse against his lips. “You’ve done us a whole lot of good.”

Chest tightening, you focused resolutely on the television despite the warring urge to arm him up and press a litany of kisses all over his face and head—any affection he felt comfortable doling out was precious indeed, and you would grant him the privacy of tucking himself out of sight, even if it was under your chin. Marc struggled the most with letting himself be seen as any semblance of vulnerable—and while Jake was more inclined and apt to it, he was still learning to trust you in particular, so allow himself to lower his guard and be himself with you (while, simultaneously, discovering and determining exactly who he was).

To receive a compliment of such caliber from Jake, though, was the highest bestowment of honor anyone could receive. He was picky, you’d learned, extremely so—especially regarding people with whom he associated. He had high standards, given the fact that his top priority had always been protecting the system first and foremost. Allowing anyone with dangerous intentions close enough to potentially hurt them was simply unacceptable, and thus he kept most everyone at arm’s length. That was why he’d acted in such a way towards you when he’d been forced to intervene for Marc’s sake, leading to your first ‘official’ meeting—he never gave anyone the benefit of a doubt until they proved themselves worthy of his extremely loyal regard (and his protection).

“I’m glad,” you responded softly. “I always try my best.”

“It’s all we could ever have asked for.”

You caved, but just slightly. You tilted your head down to press a lingering kiss to the crown of his head, nestling your nose into the neatly combed curls and inhaling the complimentary scents of their shampoo and hair gel. You curled an arm around his back and rubbed your palm in a series of circles between his shoulder blades, forgoing the movie for the sensation of his breath hitching against your throat.

“Thank you,” you whispered. “For letting me have my happy ending.”

He swallowed roughly, and when his muscles went rigid you almost expected one of the others to surface—Jake had a habit of retreating when emotions got to be too much for him, which you’d never taken offense to (only had ever worried, but it wasn’t usually very long before he slipped back into the driver’s seat to reassure you by diverting the topic to let you know he was okay)—but instead of Steven’s falsetto lilt or Marc’s flat baritone emerging to notify you of the switch, Jake’s rumbling rasp vibrated your skin via his scruffy lips brushing your artery. “It’s I who should be thanking you, chaparrita, for not running for the hills when you had the chance. You’ve…been there for them when I couldn’t be. And you didn’t…you stuck around for me.” He cleared his throat quietly. “Gracias.”

“De nada,” you returned, kissing his head again and reaching up to play with the errant locks at the nape of his neck. “Eres precioso a mi.”

He let out a breathless, if slightly wet, chuckle, and snuggled in closer. You counted it precious. You counted them precious.

“Tengo hambre,” you commented after a while, sensing he might like to have an out. “¿Qué tenemos qué podemos comer?”

Jake retracted, but it was slow and borderline reluctant, if you didn’t know any better. “Let’s order something, chaparrita. I don’t feel like futzing around in the kitchen this late.”

You smiled and reached for your phone. “Sounds good to me. Asian or…?”

“Thai.” To your surprise, Jake tugged at your arms as he reclined, coaxing you to recline on top of him, your back to his chest. He wrapped you up in an unyielding, tight embrace, smothering his face into your neck once more to mumble against your ear. “Those glass noodles Marc’s gotten before are good. With the chicken.”

You tried your best to bite back your smile, but you couldn’t help the heat building beneath your cheeks. You raised your phone over your face to pull up the corresponding delivery app. “Anything for you, handsome. Anything for you.”

[pinksugarscrub]

One Year Celebration 💙

Hello travelers!

Weary from your journey? Fear not, I have remedies to soothe your aching feet. Take a seat and pick your fancy. Although I caution you that you may only ask for two tales as I have many more customers. Well, what will it be?

~ i

Side Quests

For any pre-existing stories completed or not such as "Sun and Moon" or short stories like "Home" send in a request for a fic based on their respective universe. As long as it does not interfere with the main story you are free to spin the tale in whichever way you choose.

For example, our lovely Katy requested a sea witch Hobie! with a mermaid! reader.

Bounties

Looking for a change of pace after screening across the spider verse for the hundredth time? Send in a request for a different character or do ask for our lovable Hobie Brown, I won't judge you. The list goes as follows:

My Hero Academia

Ouran High School Host Club

DC

Marvel

One Piece

Avatar the Last Airbender

Bridgerton

The Dragon Prince

Howl's Moving Castle

...and so forth!

If you're unsure of your request or have another fandom in mind please let me know and I'll respond as soon as possible to provide you with a suitable story.

~ii

After choosing your story I'm sure you would like something sweet or savory to enjoy so please, look at our menu and let the barmaid know. Be wary we do not serve ale (smut) so please keep that in mind when you order.

Tiramisu - angst/comfort

A mix between sweet and bitter! This would go excellent with a "right person, wrong time" scenario.

Hearty stew - fluff

How...domestic of you. I love it! Doing everyday activities or enjoying new experiences with your person of choice seems lovely.

Bean Brew - angst

Sometimes I wonder why I subject myself to this, and then the ideas come. This appears fitting for "unrequited love" or "miscommunication".

Now you are ready to order!

~ iii

Message by Carrier Pigeon

Interested in asking for advice for your next adventure or asking for my own? Just send in your inquiries! I'd love to talk about my inspirations as a writer or converse about your favorite books. Writers uplift other writers, yes?

Note in a Bottle

Want a sneak peak into the wips currently within my arsenal? Ask away and I'll try to contain myself from joy. Even unreleased works 👀...

Other

As a mage in training I do have other responsibilities other than manning this tavern therefore I ask of you to be patient for your tale to arrive. Enjoy the fire and view while you wait. Thank you again for all your support and happy birthday to the blog! 🎉🎉 The deadline is September 27th as not to interfere with Octobie.

[anonymous-verse]

The Anonymous-Verse Masterlist 2.0

there have been some heavy changes in the anon-verse recently! (And not in a bad way). We have been striving away from infecting getting into people’s blogs and starting to have our own story’s. Exciting isn’t it? Well that’s why I am updating the Masterlist!

long story short, we’ve have met friends and foes and uhm. Chaos anon in our adventure during the anon-verse! Our adventures have been spread around the blogs of the individual anon besides f@|$3 who resides here but shall we continue on with the master list? I think we should

(P.S: if you want to have more information about the anon’s and the arc’s, join the discord!)

━━╋━━━╋━━━╋━━ 

DNI: PRO-SHIPPERS, PEDOPHILES, ZOOPHILES, TRANSPHOBIC, HOMOPHOBIC, and ENDOS

━━╋━━━╋━━━╋━━ 

THE DISCORD:

━━╋━━━╋━━━╋━━ 

Tags:

these are not used as often. Mb

#anon q&a - Question and Answers for the anons

#anon talks to anon - one of the anons listed probably asked something

#anons drawings - if any anons draw something, use this

#anons shit post - yeah. Just shit posting

#incorrect anon quotes - (please tell me you know what these are)

#anon lore - THE LOREEEEE

#announcement - if anything serious or just something we think is important will be tagged here

#anon reblog - we see something related to the anon verse not on the blog? We re-blog

if you want to see a post by a specific anon then put them in the tags

━━╋━━━╋━━━╋━━

anon lore summary ^^^

(NOT FINISHED >:\)

━━╋━━━╋━━━╋━━ 

Active and or in the main arcs

Orange = had an arc already

Multiverse Arson Idiot Lurking Confused Snuff Lost Tea Assnon Eyenon 👮‍♀️ Host Sky Temmie T.O.B. Promise Regret (joke character) Tortoise Dad (joke character) f@l$3 (the main user of this blog) Bed Pun Chef Witch not active Cricket Therapist not active Beep Spelling check V01D Time Enigma (not an anon but part of the lore) Done Chaos Shapeshifter (shiter) Fragment (have there own thing) McAnon (joke character) Mr. Determination Shade (not an anon) the-arc-of-1-anon (in the process of an arc)

━━╋━━━╋━━━╋━━  ‘ANON BLOGS!!1!1!1!

F@|$3 is the user of this account mostly

@tea-anon64

@arsontheanon

@multiverse-anon

@lost-anon

@confusedanonistrying

@tortoiseanon

@shapeshiftinganon

@shadespawned

@assn0n

@timeanon

@chaos-the-anon

@pun-anon

@temmie-dah-anon

@mcanonworker

@0an-enigma0

@cricketanon

@done-anon

@spellingcheckanon

@thecookinganon

@the-eyenon

@fragment-anon

@v01d-anon

@bedanon-x3

@beep-anon

@promiseanon

@dadanon01

@host00anon

@mrdetermination-anon

@the-official-snuff-anon

@idiotanonfrz

@lurkinganon0-0

@the-arc-of-1-anon-and-more

@hope-anon5

━━╋━━━╋━━━╋━━  ‘The good ol’ victims

@swiftmitsu (the one who started it all)

@maytales

@0p1er0

@derangedanomaly

@errordust-trojan

@fell-is-suffering

@thebad-lydrawn-sanses

@entityverse-utmv

@bird-nobody

@self-proclaimed-edglord

@gibbish-anon-from-gell

@kingbluetheamze1

@wickjump

@sillylittleguy2333

@iamunabletothinkofablogname

@epilepzia

━━╋━━━╋━━━╋━━  -lost anon

[deathinfeathers]

Main verse bio:

Name: Lyriel Lute Morningstar

Age: 1000+

Species: Trueborn angel (excorcist)

Gender: Presents feminine but has no gender identity. Though she uses she/her pronouns for convenience she doesn't actually care what you call her. Capable of assuming the anatomical features of any sex (default is feminine)

Orientation: Pansexual Grey-Aromantic

Alignment: Neutral evil

Family: Michael Morningstar: Adoptive father. Previously estranged. Reconnected. @/cast-you-dxwn Oriana (the first excorcist): Mother. Missing for 1000+ years. Presumed dead. Adam Firstman: commander. Soul-bound. Estranged for one year in the wake of the excorcists/hotel war. Reconnected. @/originemesis Sera: creator of the excorcists. Vaggie: Former mentee. Former lover. The excorcists: Flock. Has many sisters within their numbers, most of which died during the war. Subordinates.

Lyriel Morningstar was the name given to a nestling who hatched inside a sequestered sanctum far away from the splendid light of the golden city. The last of the first of her kind. As with any new invention, her function was predetermined and her purpose set in stone long before her life was put into motion; a killer. That is what she was. From the crest of her obsidian halo to the diminutive needle tips of her talons. But when she opened her eyes for the very first time, she was not met with an environment fit to foster the deleterious instincts of a predator. She was met with love.

The love of a man who had found his way inside the secret sanctuary made to host the fragile beginnings of a formidable choir of executioners. A man who had come to adore the matriarch of this burgeoning flock, and so too would he adore her.

For years they were a family—and they were happy.

However, one can only elude the course of fate for so long. The time came when Lyriel Morningstar and her many sisters were collected by the people who had orchestrated their existence; the high council of the kingdom of heaven. Together, they were placed into an elaborate program designed to equip the young warriors with the tools and know-how they would need to serve their purpose with stalwartness and efficiency.

But Lyriel was soft.

Her keepers were not.

Lute was the name given to a soldier born inside the barracks of an undisclosed millitary facility far away from the splendid light of the golden city.

[jo-harrington]

Corroded Coffin Fest - Day 31 - Your Song

Summary: Nothing like a bit of music to get the creative juices flowing on a hot summer night.

Word Count: 855

Rating: T

Warnings/Themes: Meta, Metafiction, An Illustration of My Mind Space, not quite about a romantic pairing but still a love letter of sorts, 1st Person POV, references to some of my old writing that you'll never find

Note: Thank you to @thisapplepielife for being an excellent host. Any event like this is huge and tedious to organize, and I truly am in awe of how you pulled it off and the tools you put together for everyone to be successful. Thank you!!!

Check Out the Main Post for @corrodedcoffinfest here! And ALL of the wonderful works that have been created for CCFest. (If we do it again next year, you’ll know where to find me.)

Tagging: @the-unforgivenn at her request.

You can find my masterlist here.

Please do not interact if you are not 18+.

Enjoy!

It’s a humid July night.

I’m on the third floor in a tiny bedroom that used to be for a guest but is now an office full of my shit.

The bed is still there though. Uncomfortable and laden with pillows and stuffed animals.

“Man it’s fucking hot in here,” he says as he flops onto the bed. I’m at the desk, ignoring him as I queue up a song to write this. He’s dressed in his S4E1 best, hair haloing his head. I could be kind to him and change his clothes. But I don’t.

I’m not a merciful god.

“Thanks, oh great and powerful sweetheart,” he deadpans.

“I need you in that outfit,” I tell him as Keane starts ringing through the speakers.

Beeps and boobs of the early 2000s. He groans.

“This song again? How about some real music?”

“This. Is. Music!” I mock him and he pouts prettily. “Come on, this is your song.”

“Uh huh.”

“Its about being stuck, about everyone getting older and changing, and leaving the singer behind.”

He hums and then shifts onto his side, precariously dangling over the edge of the twin bed; he reaches underneath to pull a scrunchie from the bin I shoved under there some time ago.

“Does that sound familiar?” I prompt him a bit more, but he’s too busy futzing with his hair, trying to put it up. He makes a bun about as skillfully as I can, which isn’t great, but he still looks good. Of course he does. “Hello? Asshole? Are you ignoring me or avoiding the truth here?”

I snap my fingers twice in his direction.

“…you can keep playing the song,” he agrees without so much as a glance my way.

So I hit repeat and he nods along to it this time, humming as it goes.

I can’t argue. It’s the closest I’m gonna get to him accepting that it hits home.

And it hits home for him because it hits home for me. We are one in the same, in one way or another. Some things quite literally, taken from source material. Others by my hand—such is the way when you pick a blorbo, you impart yourself onto them.

“Oh here we go,” he groans. “Waxing poetic about fanfiction and fanspaces.”

“You are just as bad you nerd,” I growl at him through gritted teeth. “You play DND! You quote Tolkien and Star Wars!”

The bickering goes on for a minute. Until I decide it needs to stop. He needs to behave if I’m gonna get this done and let him move onto real adventures.

“Maybe you’re the one who’s making me stuck,” he suggests. “What’s that verse? You’re gone from here, soon you will disappear, fading into beautiful light…that should be me.”

I grumble something about another story to him "if I can just finish this!" I need to get the thoughts out of my mind while they're fresh.

What he doesn't know, or maybe what he does because he's imaginary and does indeed live in my head, is that he's always up there. In there in some way, shape or form.

He's lucky to get the real estate, and there's such a vast amount of it, because the Kingly figure that used to occupy all of my thoughts is currently retired. Has been ever since June of 2022.

Eddie Munson is stuck.

Everybody changes and he just stays the same.

But he doesn't, actually.

In the worlds I make for him, he grows up, he travels the world...he actually does get stuck in a few of them and I will apologize to him profusely before I give him everything he ever wants.

That is my promise to him, my dedication to him, to give him every future that he deserves but will never get in canon--or might never get; whose to say, the damn show isn't done yet even though his asshole actor seems to be done with him--until I can't anymore. Because that is my lot in life as a fanfiction writer. That is all of our lots in life, to continue where the ones who created him left off.

Not because I wish I had him, even though I wish I did, but because it's what he deserves.

I let Thorin win the crown of Erebor. Let him grow old in the Shire with Bilbo. And I could have let him have forever with Lukhudin, had Eddie not walked into our lives.

But because he's here now, I will give Eddie everything. A thousand lifetimes. He'll never be stuck again.

"If you could just," I turn to him, "cooperate for me please?"

He purses his lips, furrows his brow, and then waves a hand dismissively.

I try to turn back to the computer, try to finish this entry.

But he stops me.

"Tomorrow..." he pauses and I glance at him out of the corner of my eye. "Tomorrow can I try that Mountain Dew Code Red you were thinking about the other day?"

And I can't help but laugh.

"Of course you can Eddie," I tell him. "Of course you can."

[novashelby]

Evelyn Shelby(OC) x Alfie-AU EVIE Verse. Meaning no connection to the main fic or timeline. Just playing around with Evie and different characters. Enjoy! I'm trying to write Alfie more.

TW: Mention of bombs and sex

It was her second attempt at university. She was turning thirty that October. However, life had other plans. Germany had other plans. When she was a little girl, she always asked her daddy if there was ever going to be another war. Either Tommy lied to make her feel safe or he truly wanted to believe it himself.

"You know, I don't feel so comfortable with you going far from home, Evelyn-London-"

"Daddy, I'll be thirty this year. I'd like to go to London, alright?" She stopped speaking, noticing his tense nature. "I'm no safer here." He couldn't argue with her. His eight year old girl was in fact thirty. She was going to do what she wanted.

So, she went to London in late August and in September of 1940, everything changed. They were so loud. The bombs. Her and the rest of the ladies were forced to live, breathe, eat, and study in a shelter that was really just a makeshift basement where the university kept files. They were only allowed out during certain hours and had to be back before a certain time.

But Evelyn never followed a curfew. If Tommy Shelby couldn't make her, fuck Germany. Hitler wasn't going to make her follow no stupid curfew.

"Un-fucking-real," the gentleman said when she walked through his underground distillery and into his 'office'. It was less of an office, more of a closet. "Not even a fuckin' air raid gives me a fuckin' break from you fuckin' Shelbys-"

"Nice to see you, Mr. Solomons-"

"Shouldn't you be home?" he asked, fixing his specks. He was observing some type of trinket. Evelyn looked over the desk at it, humming. "What?"

"I was sick of living with fifteen other girls in a file room," she explained, looking around the place. "Thought I'd get some fresh air." She sniffed in the dust. "Though, I don't think your office is that fresh-no offense." She looked over at him. "It's dusty-"

Alfie put down the trinket, and leaned back, unamused expression. "It's a fuckin' closest." Evelyn sat on a pile of boxes, folding her legs. "Make yourself at home," he said, sarcastically, of course. "Just like your daddy-barge right in. You know modern people call before they visit? or they write?"

Evelyn chuckled. "Well, Mr. Solomons. You and my father also have something in common."

"Fuck off with that-"

"Both old, grouchy, miserable," she started, rising from the boxes and walking over, leaning on the flimsy desk. "Dusty, unmarried men. Would you not like some company? You've aged a lot since I've last seen you-"

"Are you going to try and fuck me again?" he asked before settling on, "you can sleep on the makeshift bed." Alfie wasn't going to make a young lady traverse through the dodgy London streets risking getting stuck in an air raid.

"And where will you sleep?" she asked.

"I won't-"

"But what if it gets cold and I'll need more warmth? Mr. Solomons, you are an awful host." He commented how they were, once again, in a closet. That it was a....bloody fuckin' stuffy in there...and he was...nearly sweating my arse off. "Then you should have no qualms about me undressing-"

"Bloody fuckin' 'ell...alright," he groaned. Evelyn was a strange woman, he thought. "Desk or cot?"

She hummed, looking at her watch. "It's early...surely we can make our rounds. I bet we'll even make it against the ceiling if we get our position right."